The Exchange
by Inks Inc
Summary: Four reports are due. Two people hold the key and two people require the key. The required key unlocks Gibbs' happy place, but without the key, Gibbs' unhappy place is surely to be unleashed. How much could one key cost? Warning: Mild Corporal Punishment. Completed One-Shot.


"Probie _please,"_ Tony begged shamelessly, "please let me see yours. C'mon man don't do this to me. It's due in like two hours and you know my ass is grass if I don't have it, one more time. Would ya have a heart for _one_ second?"

His desperate pleas were echoed with a heavy trace of repetition behind him.

"Abby…I _will_ kill you, you see? I love you very much, but if you do not help me when I need it the most I will dissect you from the inside out. So, _please,_ there…you see, I said please? You see that? Now, _please…_ will you let me see your report. Gibbs will… _stew_ my ass out if I do not have something."

Both advantage holding parties glanced at each other, humoured grins splashed on their faces. Abby crossed the bull pen with a merry skip, landing herself on the edge of Tim's desk where he leant, and folded her arms across her chest, just like his.

Ziva and Tony groaned, and turned to face their smirking teammates, side by side.

"What's it gonna take?" Tony asked wearily, "what do you _want_ in exchange for your stupid report?"

Ziva ran a hand through her mop of curls and sighed in equal frustration. "What he said."

Calculating looks were exchanged between a scientist and a computer tech.

"What're you offering, Tony?" Tim grinned, enjoying the very much unprecedented position of having a hold over the senior field agent. "What do you have that I'd even _want?"_ He paused to laugh, knowing that if the roles were reversed, DiNozzo would torture him. "Unless…you're suddenly willing to part with your…oh, I don't know…Mickey Mouse stapler?"

Tony's jaw dropped.

"You heathen," he hissed, "you know that he's worth his weight in gold."

McGee raised a brow.

"He?"

" _Mickey_ Mouse, McMoron, not _Minnie_ Mouse." He puffed out his chest in affront. "I thought you had honour McPirate…but really you're willing to take the shirt off my back in exchange for a two page report that could _save my life?"_

"That shirt is hideous Tony, when are you going to accept that you're never going to be on Hawaii Five-O?"

The elder of the two spluttered into indignant silence.

"Abby, " Ziva interjected, "come now. We are friends, no? You know Tony and I completely forgot about this stupid deadline, do you not think…you could help us out? I would do the same for you… _please_ Abby?"

The lab rat grinned devishly.

"One condition."

Ziva heaved a sigh of relief, and a groan of horror in the one breath. Abby's conditions were notorious.

"You have to give my bowling nun's a two hour crash course in basic self defence."

Beside her, Tony choked.

"Nuns?" Ziva echoed dubiously, "aren't they the ones with those funny hats?" She shook her head slowly, "one cannot wear funny hats and defend oneself, Abby."

"Probie," Tony butted in, not willing to have their precious negotiating time wasted on kickboxing nuns, "you can have the damn stapler, ok? You can have it…just _give me that report before I snap your scrawny little neck."_

Abby and Tim exchanged mischievous smiles.

Before rapidly relenting.

The looks of desperation on both their teammates face was too much for their gentle souls. Each rolled their eyes as they moved in sync. Tim leant over and rummaged around in his desk for the appropriate USB, whilst Abby merely fished it out of her lab coat and tossed it to an awaiting Ziva. Catching it as if it were made with gold, the Israeli flashed her toothiest grin. "Thank you, _thank you_ Abby, I will teach your nuns how to kill a man with their purse, ok?"

Extending the proffered memory stick from Tim, Tony sighed in relief.

"You're the man Probie," he sighed, "you've literally saved the world from losing my gene pool."

"Oh _gee,_ thank God," Tim muttered in feigned disdain.

Tony and Ziva turned on their heels, ready to throw together some form of acceptable case report of their latest investigation within their limited time remaining. Unlike Abby and Tim who had diligently completed theirs straight after they closed the case, Tony had spent the time with in-town college buddies and Ziva had spent the time refreshing her camping skills in dense woodland.

Both completely forgetting about their reports, and Gibbs' weird insistence that they never be a second late.

Not a one.

The Agency itself didn't care.

But Gibbs did, which meant _they_ did, which meant they needed to type at the speed of light.

As if on some horrific cue that he had built into his system, Gibbs himself chose the moment that Tim and Ziva threw the USB's back to Tim and Abby to enter the bullpen. The ping of the elevator doors shutting and the trademark waft of caffeine had both senior agent's and liaison's head's snapping up in horror.

Gibbs wasn't supposed to be back in the office for another hour at least.

Tony glanced desperately at his computer screen, so far, he had his badge number typed. Ziva, in equal horror assessed her progress…which was her name. Her freaking _name._ Tim and Abby glanced at each other and grimaced. USB's in hand, they exchanged an unspoken conversation and quickly left them on Gibbs' desk and left the bullpen to "examine samples," before he was fully in the communal area.

Throwing himself behind his desk, he noted those _infernal_ U..ZD _thingies_ that Tim and Abby, no matter how many times he told them to the contrary, insisted on using. It did however, jolt his memory about the case reports he was still owed, and not wanting to listen to Leon harp on about efficiency and legal cover, he cleared his throat absentmindedly.

"DiNozzo, Ziva…reports, where are they?"

There was a stark silence.

"Uhh…uhm boss?" Tony muttered cautiously, shooting a scathing glance in Ziva's direction as she all but threw her face into her screen, "they're not due for another like…two hours?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Which means they should have been done about two days ago, Tony," he replied evenly, "just hand it over, would ya? I don't want the _Director_ on my ass." He glanced over at Ziva, "you too David, if you can tear yourself away."

They stared at him in silence, squirming somewhat in their seats.

He eyed them in confusion for a split second, before throwing his eyes up the ceiling.

"They're not done, are they?" he growled, "for the _third_ time in as many months. Are you two seriously trying to piss me off?"

Both looked scandalised at the very idea.

"No Gibbs," Ziva spluttered, "we _did_ try and get them done, we even asked Abby and Tim for theirs but they would not…they uhh…well…ahh…"

Tony dropped his head into his hands with a horrified yelp.

It had been a nice thirty or so years on the earth he supposed.

Time to meet his maker now.

Realising her fatal error, Ziva groaned as she paled.

Gibbs rose slowly and pointed to the spot in front of his desk. "Both of you, here, now."

Shooting Ziva perhaps the deathliest glare he had ever shot a woman, Tony shoved himself away from his desk and stood. Both of them landed in their allocated position within a second, and stared guiltily down at the floor.

"Why aren't they done?"

Feeling like she owed Tony the horror of taking the question after her stumble, Ziva looked up.

"We uhh…both met friends over the last couple of days and lost track of time, Gibbs."

It was a good thing she took the question, because she always got straight to the point. Something that calmed their boss. Gibbs stared them for a moment, and sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that explanation from the two, and he'd been very clear about the future consequences the last time it had happened, hoping to prevent a repeat performance.

His hopes were as dashed as Tony's and Ziva's as he sighed once more and rooted around his desk.

One quick glance around the bull pen revealed it to be completely deserted, and he knew at this time, it would remain so. "I warned you two the last time about missed deadlines. There's no way in hell you could write something acceptable in an hour or so. As far as I'm concerned, you blew another submission, with a piss poor reason. I'm not wasting any more time explaining the why and how's of it, you both know damned well better than this."

He eyed Tony firmly.

"Right hand, palm up."

His second in command pulled a face, eying the heavy ruler in Gibbs' hand with hatred.

"But boss…" he wheedled, "I'm a _rightie,_ that'll kill man!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Prefer I give it to you on both, Tony?" he demanded, "Because that can be arranged, I assure you."

The senior agent snorted in disgruntlement, but obediently stuck out his right hand, his eyes screwed shut. Five stinging, heavy and precise swats of the thick ruler immediately landed within a three second interval. His eyes springing open, Tony let out a loud yelp and a softer whimper as he whipped his hand away, and stuck it under his arm, trying hopelessly to squeeze the pain away.

"Done?" he gasped imploringly, and Gibbs had to bite back a chuckle at the little dance he was doing to assuage the sting, and the wideness of his eyes. "Yes, done," he sighed with a certain fondness, "back to your desk, and get writing before I change my mind. New deadline's nine AM tomorrow, _sharp."_

Tony exhaled slowly.

"Yes boss. Going boss."

Shaking his head as his second threw himself gingerly behind his desk, holding his hand like a wounded war vet, Gibbs turned his attention to his youngest. "Same goes for you miss," he said sternly, "right hand out, palm up."

Ziva's face fell for a fraction, before she stiffened her jaw and held out her hand.

Landing an equal number, of equal intensity on the outstretched limb, Gibbs dished out the second punishment in a fifth of a second shorter time than the first. Like Tony before her, Ziva wrenched back her hand and squeezed it under her arm, instinctively trying to numb the sting. Placing the impossibly thick and heavy ruler back on his desk, Gibbs reached out and carefully tucked Ziva under the chin.

"No more tardiness kid, you hear?"

She shook her head frantically, and he couldn't stop his soft smile shining through.

"Back to your desk then, time's ticking."

She returned his smile with a crooked one of her one, before scuttling back to her desk. Shaking his head wearily, Gibbs seated himself once more and settled down. Glancing down at the USB's on his desk once more, he felt a smile play upon his lips.

He cleared his throat, and both Ziva and Tony instantly trained their gaze on him.

"What did those two try to extort from you for their reports?"

Tony snorted as Ziva huffed.

"Just my _life_ boss," DiNozzo exclaimed heatedly in explanation, pointing to his beloved stapler, "McCleptomaniac wanted Mickey here. Can you believe that?"

Ziva hid a wince as she picked up a pen in her right hand.

"Abby simply wanted me to _militarise_ a group of _nun's."_

Gibbs couldn't help it. He burst into laughter. At the sight of Tony's and Ziva's indignant scowls, he chuckled all the more.

"It's not _funny_ boss," Tony huffed stiffly, "its _blackmail."_

Gibbs shook his head as he returned to his own monitor.

"Naw DiNozzo, it's not. It's just a seller's market out there at the minute."

Tony pouted for a second, before splitting into a devilish grin that caught Ziva's attention drawing a similar anticipatory smirk from her.

"You selling your house for alimony, boss?"

….

FIN

…

A/N: The result of a very boring, fragmented commute. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
